In Waiting
by Neji-WarmingUpWinter
Summary: For it was the fear inside of loneliness – that only what others have is real. The tears wouldn't come. KaiShin, Two-Shot
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: If you think so, one word from me: idiot. (Sorry, I don't sugarcoat.)

_Summary: For it was the fear inside of loneliness – that only what others have is real. The tears wouldn't come. KaiShin, Two-Shot_

.:::.

**In Waiting**

"_It's just a tour with the troop – "_

"_But I saw – "_

_A perfect, faked look of innocence. "Why, I don't know what you're – "_

_Protests, coming without permission, just begging him to stay – "Really, don't try and lie to me – "_

_The smile was just too pleasant, too fake – "It's just a troop, it's not like it hasn't happened before – "_

"_But – "_

_A finger pressed to his lips, a mouth covering his for that split moment – _

_Tongues in an endless fight for dominance, before his finally was subdued – _

_He was gone._

_The first day after his had gone had been filled with a blank numbness, both in mind and body. He had wandered around his house numbly, as if it would give him answers._

_To put it short, it didn't._

_He started running on coffee almost immediately by the time the second day rolled around._

It was almost ten months later right now.

.:::.

Another day, another night.

Cases poured in, work was non-stop. He buried himself within them, oblivious and not wanting to know of the world around him. He couldn't care anymore about them. Didn't want to.

Sunrise, sunset.

His sides burned and his breath came in short gasps and pants from chasing the runaway suspect from the murder scene that had been three miles away.

Rise, up, do, and repeat.

Running on coffee could not be good for one's health, much like he was doing right now. Neither was the only piece of toast he had every week or so.

School, cases, homework. Repeat.

Bags shadowed his eyes, making him look as though he were a ghost – he had never been more grateful of the times his mother had decided to force her disguise expertise on him.

Coffee, water, and coffee again.

His best friend , who hadn't talked to him over the course of the last two months, slowly came back to him – partly only because out of her uncontained worry about his situation and mood.

Over and over.

The other hadn't always left his plans around. He believes that he had only been off to get a bite to eat in his haste for research –

Again and again.

For a week he had been banned from taking part in cases, a week which he had been ordered to sleep away – instead, he chose to perfect his art of disguise during said week. The bags under his eye could no longer be spotted even by the keenest of eyes –

Worry, worry, worry.

He wishes that he hadn't accidently run across the other's files on what he had planned to do – _with his plans and backup plans and plans A and B and C and D…._ –, wished that he could believe that it was just a simple, year-long tour with the magician troupe and they hopped countries –

But it wasn't.

His heart clenched.

Because it had been because of he himself that the other had left. As much as the other had tried to hide it upon his leave, he knew. He always knew.

He wished he didn't have to always know.

He would always know that he just wasn't enough.

_Not enough to keep him there, beside him, alone –_

And that hurt.

.:::.

Ring, ring, ring.

He would pick up the phone, not sparing a glance at the caller ID, absentmindedly, caught up in the middle of a particularly interesting case. It was all too tiring –

"…Hello?"

"Hey."

He snapped the phone shut with a snap.

His excuse would probably be that he wanted to hear his voice.

_Don't, don't, don't…._

.:::.

Day after day, night after night.

He wasn't the type to wait, it wasn't in his personality.

He didn't want to do anymore waiting.

It hadn't only been Ran who had been waiting during his time as Conan; those painful years that he hadn't meant to put her through, something he had been set on that was done to protect her, to keep her safe – and she had only wanted to know when to duck when the time came to it. It was something he hadn't helped her with, hadn't told her of. He had waited two years, _two whole years_, for the cure that been promised him some time before – waited for two years for the perfect moment to tell her, reveal to her, his identity.

In short, he had done a lot of waiting as well.

And those who knew had thought him cruel for making her hurt, for making her wait so long.

He had gone to visit her just a few weeks back – partly to finish mending up patches of their lost relationship, partly because he wanted to test how well his disguise would hold up.

The disguise held up well. He didn't.

The visit hadn't been planned, yes, but he had hardly expected to find himself walking into the midst of a proposal.

_Just as he might have done –_

He had blushed bright red, blood rushing to his cheeks as he stammered excuses or business to attend to, his apologies, and then fled, ignoring Ran's calls behind him, though they were not that of anger.

He wished it was what they could have become, the two of them –

But he obviously didn't want something like that if all he did was lie to him, and disappear off on some 'tour' the magician troupe was taking –

He would watch the others around him, their happiness, how their emotions were true – something he hadn't had and done since several months ago, when things were all right, all true. He would curl himself up on his bed, still and empty, a perfect imitation of the empty shell he felt as though he was – and it was in times like those that he would finally identify the emotion, the empty feeling that has resided in him as loneliness, something inside it –

For it was the fear inside of loneliness – that only what others have is real.

The tears wouldn't come.

.:::.

A/N: I'll see about finishing this next week. Mending will be up in….a few weeks or so…..I wish you a "happy" Valentine's Day! :D /shot


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Nope.

.:::.

**In Waiting**

To say that he had not expected what just _happened_ to appear in the newspaper headlines that morning would have been an understatement.

Bold titles clad the top of newspapers, so big that they might as well have been in neon shades. It was another of those big events again. And this time, it happened to be on the downfall on the Black Organization.

He had never anticipated something like this, though at the beginning he had been sure it would come eventually. But, as time went on, he had gotten almost used to waiting, used to the feeling of longing whenever the sight of the full moon greeted his eyes. He had bought himself a copy, convincing himself it was because he just wanted to know how –

_He wanted to know when he would return home._

Weeks passed. Worries began to unsettle him again; worries that had plagued him for the better part of the entire time he had left.

During that month, - _convincing himself it was because he had nothing better to do_ – he had analyzed the newspaper article and had basically turned it inside out. It had claimed to be up-to-date, just happened the day before the newspaper was published, but yet –

It couldn't have.

Dates had been edited – all of them, yes, but that had also created errors in minor things such as the number of days in the month – also including a number of personal interviews from people _that had died just within that month_. Sure, a number of the interviewees were still well and alive at that point, but it served to do nothing but strengthen his deduction.

Though the question still lingered, still remained.

_Why had he pushed it back a month?_

The thought just made him wonder when exactly the other was going to come home, to return. But he understood the reasons – always did.

But then, all of a sudden, he was there. He had returned.

A KID heist had been announced.

.:::.

They had seen each other first again, at said heist. He had figured out the heist riddle, yes – too easy, too familiar –

He hadn't planned on showing up at all – show that bastard how he made him feel –, nor had he planned on chasing that stupid thief in any way whatsoever had he ended up attending anyway – no point in giving that blasted moron pleasure in the chase, pleasure that had been kept from him for so long –

But it had seemed that everything had been against him that day in particular.

That afternoon, Ran had suggested that they spend the afternoon catching up; he declined, unwanting of the awkwardness that still lingered between them ever since she had become knowing of the Conan incident, weaseling out of said arrangement with the handy excuse that he was going to attend the KID heist. And that was where things went downhill.

She had insisted on going with him, and he couldn't shake her off.

And that night, everything had veered even more off track.

He had already sworn to himself that he wouldn't chase that bastard of a thief, but he found himself unconsciously chasing him anyways – _courtesy of Nakamori, although unknowingly_ –.

First, it had been to avoid the sleeping gas – because _of course_ he hadn't been given a gas mask – that had come from the edges of the room in which the jewel was held. Once he had escaped from said room, every step he had taken had been the unknowing trigger of some sort of trap, ones that he hadn't even noticed that Nakamori-keibu had set up. Needless to say, he wasn't particularly happy when he finally ended up on the roof, battered and bruised from aforementioned traps – with even a sprained ankle to show for it – to face the phantom thief that had left him behind – _and the one he hadn't seen for so long and missed so bad –_

Cerulean orbs met identical violet ones –

He hadn't expected to fling himself into the other's arms just like that and just _cry_.

.:::.

When he had come to again, a hand was caressing his cheek in a familiar pattern – _one that he hadn't felt for so long_. He leaned into it, until his mind caught up with his actions and sapphire orbs flew open to focus on a face about him, so like his own, one that he hadn't seen for so long, hadn't seen for almost a year –

He forcefully pushed his hand away, almost falling off the bed he had found himself on, his hand raising up to slap that damn bastard's face, slap some sense he had wanted to do so for so long –

A stronger, calloused hand catches his own slim one – lips meeting his – he melted under them. It had been so long since –

He jerks his head back, breath coming in pants as he gasps for breath – "No! I won't hear this – " He cuts off, panting before he continues his outburst – "I want an explanation, you jerk – "

The other had given him an expressionless look – _and he had felt betrayed, so betrayed he had used again that detestable Poker Face in front of him, towards him only_ – and it had been with a very regretful voice in which Kaito had finally first stared to recount his story.

He listened, never interrupted.

It was like a repeat of the Conan incident – only higher stakes, more drastic measures, working harder to make sure the one you held so dear wouldn't get found. He had understood.

_But it wasn't as if he hadn't known from the very beginning, so why didn't you tell –_

They had gone out for dinner later that day – his first time in a year, away from all the coffee and occasional pieces of toast and murders that had just seemed to drop from the sky without the other around. So much that the food – _used to be so familiar in his mouth, the taste spreading throughout_ – tasted almost alien to him.

Kaito had insisted that the detective had become too skinny – _what else would he have become without him around _ – for his own good. The magician had literally carried him bridal style – with him blushing bright red the whole way at the stares he was getting – to the nearest grocery store – _that didn't carry fish, of course_ – and had refused to leave until Shinichi had gotten himself enough food to feed himself for a whole month, at his previous rate of eating.

Maybe, just maybe, things were going back to normal again.

.:::.

It had just been another day, another night under the moon. The second heist since KID's return to Japan since his country-hopping of the previous year.

"Have you ever wondered," the thief had begun lightly. "Why you had to wait another month when the article was clearly already pushed back a month?"

The wind blew, then standing still on the rooftop. He didn't know.

Their relationship – the one they had once had – was slowly repairing, coming back to them as if it had never left; yet it had been thoroughly damaged so much that it would never have been quite the same again. There had just been one little question left unanswered, one that the detective had never been bold enough to ask, for fear of being rejected – _he had never known that the other could never reject him_ –

Perhaps it would be now that he would finally get an explanation.

The moon was full – yet it only barely illuminated the white of the other's costume. Yet, then, suddenly, it did.

"I was asking permission," the phantom murmured, though through the shadows there was the slightest lilt of a smirk residing on his face, "from your parents."

Confusion – that was the emotion he felt at the other's words. It wasn't an explanation, it couldn't be – yet it was, only that he couldn't understand a word. "Asking permission – " his voice stumbled from the cold atop the building, "my parents – why?"

"You're the detective, take a guess."

The voice was a faint imitation of his usual mocking tone – this time, it was more lenient, more soft and gentle, as if careful. But he was never careful, always reckless and headstrong –

"I don't know – "

He didn't want to guess.

He usually would have.

But then, perhaps he had been expecting it when the other had knelt down on one knee, presenting him with that little box that he just _knew_ had been drawn out from the other's back pocket, and that ring, shining up at him so brightly, set with a diamond and two smaller sapphires that had matched his eyes.

He had been so mesmerized within the strange patterns that were engraved on the golden band that he almost missed the other's question.

And, that night, under the full moon in which they had met, he accepted, cerulean eyes shining with a sheen that it hadn't acquired for almost a year.

"Sure."

.:::.

A/N: Done! –throws confetti- Bet you weren't expecting that ending. I just like patching these kinds of things up. And it's actually in two weeks instead of a month this time! (Yes, you'll be getting Secrets and Mending on the 14th of next month, if I don't get lazy).


End file.
